erastes

Bit of a thaw today—just about all gone from my area – Dad’s garden is still quite snowy though.

Making potato, saffron and seafood soup/stew for lunch. Nom. A complete experiment, so fingers crossed. ETA: It was absolutely delicious! Probably far too much saffron, but I like saffron!

I won’t say that I’m worried about I Knew Him, but I have to come to terms with the fact that it’s not a category romance, and that’s probably the direction I’m going to be heading in the future. I think I’m a little trepidatious (not a real word?) about making that step outside because female written gay fiction isn’t as accepted as female written gay romance, not in the gay fiction world yet, at least. Band of Thebes posted today about the winner of the Green Carnation Award (gay male written fiction) and while I’m thrilled that there’s a gay fiction award in the UK, it’s depressing that (like the Orange prize, as Thebes rightly points out) it’s limited to sex, and therefore honours the writers and not the BOOK – and as far as I’m concerned, it’s the book that’s the more important part of the equation. I know this is a contentious issue, and many people do – and have – disagreed with me in the past, and now – but, well, that’s my opinion. It’s nothing to do with "entitlement” – as a GLBT female author I could probably enter more writing competitions than men, should I wish to do so – I don’t think for one moment I’d win, but I think in a world where everyone is scrabbling for equality, segregation in this way is a step backwards. However, a writer of gay historical fiction is what I’ve always tagged myself, rather than a gay romance writer, so I should stop navel gazing.

Anyway, I digress. Didn’t mean to go down that particular route. I think it’s the snow, turns me into Old Auntie Vanya and her gloomy trousers. What I meant to wibble about was the fact that I feel as nervous about not being a romance writer (in the main, I think I’ll always write a romance a year, perhaps novella length) as i was when I stepped away from fandom. It feels like walking a rope without a net, or something. Daft I know. I’ve been pretty close mouthed about I Knew Him because if I were to talk about it even a bit it would spoil what it’s about. GOD KNOWS how I’m going to do a book cover blurb for this one.

I know that there are loyal fans who will read it anyway, and some loyal readers of mine who won’t because it won’t have that guaranteed happy ending (can’t even say anything about that, either!) and that’s fine, absolutely fine. I don’t write for the readers, you know that, (however grateful I am that I have some!!) I write stories that I’d like to read—just hope others want to read it too. What can I say about it? Well, I’ve already said it’s set in 1921, I can say it’s almost all set in one house, in Somerset, a house like this one.

It borrows a theme only from a Shakespeare play (I’m sure you can guess which one) but doesn’t, other than the set up, follow the plot of it, because that would be 1.dull 2. cheating. 3. lazy. It’s a first person narration and I think you’ll like Harry, the narrator as he’s a little bit wicked, sarcastic, and rather camp. I’m enjoying having the freedom that the time gives me, that some men at this stage were not exactly OUT, but that a certain campness was tolerated and didn’t necessarily mean you were a “sissy” – you could just be one of those artistic types…yes. Well. And the proliferation of psychiatric theories meant that the educated had—what they thought at least—an understanding of homosexuality even if they were still just as prejudiced and phobic about it.

Also. Scrivener tutorial is mind numbingly dull and not very user friendly. Bored Erastes is baffled. Off home a bit early, as there’s freezing fog and I’d rather drive in the light. But I’m doing six days with dad this week, so it evens out.

Now - Where’s that cherry orchard?

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